


Grudge

by oshunwaves



Category: Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, M/M, One Shot, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Scenario, SnowBaz, Swearing, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-09 07:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19883896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oshunwaves/pseuds/oshunwaves
Summary: Simon takes a certain liberty to punish Baz after a fight.





	Grudge

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by [this Tumblr post.](https://i-thought-thered-be-sandwiches.tumblr.com/post/185269425645/imagine)

**Simon**

My entire body is splayed on the couch as I train my eyes on the TV. Eerie music blares from it as I watch a girl venture into a room with a flashlight and nothing else. Lightning strikes and an ominous shadow looms behind her. She continues walking as the masked figure follows her every step with a knife in hand, ready to strike at any given moment. 

“C’mon!” I groan. “He’s right behind you for fuck’s sake!”

I roll my eyes before reaching for the bowl sitting on the coffee table. Previously, it had been filled to the brim with an entire bag of sour cream and onion potato chips. Now, it is empty except for a few crumbs at the bottom. I sigh before setting the bowl back to its original spot.

I try to get more comfortable on the sofa, shifting my position until I am buried under a mound of pillows. I return to the movie, watching as the girl lets out a piercing scream before getting brutally murdered by the killer. 

“I told you he was behind you,” I say, shaking my head before searching for the remote. After finding it under one of the couch cushions, I flip through the channels with disinterest. Nothing good is showing at this time. There aren’t even any good sales on the home shopping network! I return to the horror movie, frowning as it turns into a commercial just as I land on it.

The jiggle of a door knob comes from behind me and my heart skips a beat. What are the odds of a murderer breaking into my apartment right now and killing me? I mean, I am home alone and watching a horror movie. Maybe there’s someone screaming at their own television right now, telling me the killer is right behind me. Man, how ironic would my death be. I hear a thud and a grunt follow it. I burrow into the couch, screwing my eyes shut before taking a leap of faith. 

“Hello?” My voice echoes in the empty room.

“Oh, great. You’re home,” a sardonic tone answers. I sit up from my position, searching for the owner of the voice. A figure is standing in the kitchen, searching for a glass in the cabinet. The muscles in his back ripple under the tight black shirt he is wearing. His onyx hair is tied up in a messy bun, stray strands curling around the shape of his jaw and the dip of his neck. 

“I mean, I’m always home, Baz.” He turns around at my words. His lips are set into a flat line. His dark eyebrows furrow, creating deep wrinkles on his smooth forehead. His eyes narrow at me before the ghost of a snarl spreads on his lips. 

“What did you do again today? Wallow on the couch and watch television? That’s all you ever do.” He rolls his eyes before going back to hunting for a glass. After what feels like hours, he finally settles on one. He sets it down on the counter a little harder than needed. I jump at the sound as it rings in my ears. He swings open the fridge and sticks his head in before returning with a pitcher full of water. I watch as he pours some for himself with a scowl etched on his face.

“Well, what can I do? I don’t go to school anymore. I’m not busy like you or Penny.” I’m confused by Baz’s anger. He sips his water with a stony expression on his face. I watch the veins in his throat constrict as he swallows. Merlin, I’m ready to jump on him while he’s mad at me for no reason.

“Besides, I don’t have magic anymore, so what’s the point?” I mutter to myself before turning my focus back to the movie. The killer is now singling out the dead girl’s friends, preparing to slaughter them one by one. I hear a sarcastic chuckle come from behind me. 

“Oh, that’s rich. That’s all you ever say!”

“Well, it’s true, right?” My voice is sharp as I turn around again. He has his arms crossed over his chest and he rolls his eyes again before speaking in an undertone to himself. His skin is paler than ever, shadows creating a sinister, evil look on his face. “Baz, I don’t underst–“

“Oh, boo hoo. Simon Snow doesn’t have magic anymore. Just get over yourself for once!”

**Baz**

Oh, fuck. I didn’t mean that. 

**Simon**

Two can play at one game.

**Baz**

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. FUCK. 

I just made a huge mistake. Humongous. Ginormous. Numpty-sized. 

He’s going to hate me. He’s going to hate me forever. He’s going to break up with me. He’s definitely about to break up with me right now. He’s going to turn around and end it because of the stupid words that came out my mouth. Am I ready for Simon to break up with me? Oh Crowley, I’m going to have to prepare myself, aren’t I?

Did I really have to come home and be such a dick? Today wasn’t even a bad day. I didn’t step on a crack or see a black cat or walk under a ladder (which are all fake superstitions and no one should believe in them). I know I’ve been losing countless hours over studying. Being top student doesn’t happen without effort.

When I walked into the apartment, I was hit with a wave of exhaustion. It loomed over me like a black cloud, instantly infecting my mood and the environment around me. Usually, seeing Simon’s face would always lighten things up even if I acted like it didn’t, but tonight was different. I seemed to be barely hanging from a thread and it had finally snapped.

Simon stands abruptly and sprints into his bedroom. I feel myself wanting to run after him, but I stay rooted to my position in the kitchen instead. I can hear him searching for something around the room. After a loud bang and a couple swears eliciting from him, I listen to him pad back into the living room. He saunters into the room without giving me so much as a glance. His chest is puffed out and I notice something glittering against the tan skin of his throat before he throws himself onto the couch.

A gold cross on a thin chain hangs around his neck. 

Oh, for Merlin’s sake. 

“Snow, what are you wearing?” I question, raising my eyebrows as I wait for an answer. He turns around, his eyes scanning me from head to toe with a smirk on his lips.

Damn him and his lips.

He has no right to look at me that way. I can feel my body tingling from his stare and I do not like feeling tingly. He’s lucky I haven’t attacked him already with the way he’s biting his lip at me, chuckling to himself. Oh, I would take his bottom lip between my teeth and pull. He wouldn’t be laughing anymore. 

“I may not have magic, Baz, but I do have other ways of punishing you,” he replies, lips still curled in a taunting grin.

“Wearing a cross, huh? Very funny, Snow.” I down my glass of water, hoping that would distract him enough. Yes, I am aware that Snow stares at me when he thinks I don’t know. I set the cup down before taking a glimpse at him. A dazed expression seizes his face, mouth slightly parted and eyes lightly glazed. He feels my eyes on him, causing him to swiftly wipe away his astonishment and replace it with a steely glare.

“Yeah, it’s absolutely hilarious.” His tone is curt before he goes back to the TV, gluing his eyes to the screen.

“Simon.” He doesn’t turn when he hears me say his name. He’s mad. Like really mad. We have small arguments all the time, but this is different. I shouldn’t have walked in and turned up the dial on being the worst boyfriend in existence. If there’s a competition for that, then I’m currently in first place.

“I’m... I’m sorry,” I utter, staring down at my sock-clad feet. My voice echoes throughout the apartment. The only noise that fills the room comes from the television and a passing car. I raise my head, studying Simon’s profile from behind. His shoulders are rolled back, no evidence showing that he heard my words. 

Fuck.

**Simon**

A week has passed since Baz and I’s argument. Neither of us has said much to each other. On the first day of wearing the cross, Baz had gotten into bed and wrapped his arm around me before a jolt ran through his body, resulting in him tumbling onto the floor with a booming thump. After a few muttered swears, he got back onto his feet and he stood there for awhile, grey eyes piercing into my back, before he left the bedroom. I had stayed awake for hours, wondering if I should follow after him, before I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning and walked into the living room, seeing him passed out on the couch in an uncomfortable position. He’s been sleeping on the couch ever since that day and he always eyes the necklace with a look of malice whenever he sees it.

The thing is, I still don’t know what made Baz freak out on me last week. I had heard his quiet apology when he stood in the kitchen, but I was so consumed in my anger to care enough to forgive him. Throughout this week, he hasn’t made any effort to explain why he had blown up the way he had. We’ve stayed in our individual corners and haven’t said anything about the fight that had occurred just a week ago. I know I can just ask him what’s wrong, but every time I rack up the courage to do it his words ring in my ears and I walk away. I don’t want to walk away from Baz, but it’s hard when all I can hear is his voice saying I should get over myself. It’s as if he’s saying he doesn’t care what had happened with the Mage and everything after it, and I know he cares—I know—but it still hurts.

I’m sitting on the couch, knees bouncing as I watch a true crime documentary, when I hear the door swing open and the pound of footsteps enter the room. Baz is home and he makes sure to let me know. I hear him barge into the kitchen before noisily rummaging through the fridge. The sound of his feet grows closer until he’s standing right in front of me, blocking the view of the television. 

“What are you watching?” he asks before cracking open the cap of a red sports drink and taking a sip. A droplet trails down his chin and he catches it with his thumb before licking the sugary substance from his finger. Fuck, is he doing this on purpose? I feel a blush creeping up my neck and my ears begin to grow hot. Oh no. 

“Some documentary,” I say casually, looking away from him. He towers over me, staring at me in a way that gives me a weird, queasy feeling in my stomach. Oh God, I hope I don’t throw up. My heart is thumping erratically. I hope I don’t go into cardiac arrest right now, but the way Baz is currently staring at me has my heart almost beating out of my chest.

“You’re kind of, um, blocking the TV,” I mumble, clearing my throat. 

“Fuck the TV,” he spits, placing his drink abruptly on the coffee table. His grey eyes prick holes into me as he stalks towards where I’m sitting. He licks his lips, a venomous sneer on his face. He looks as if he’s about to attack me. 

“Baz, what are you–“ 

I feel his hands grab at the chain around my neck, eagerly yanking it off, before a pair of cold lips press against mine fervently. He tastes like artificial sugar and it’s almost addictive. I didn’t know how much I missed kissing him until it happened.

His fingers curl into my hair, pulling at it as he continues his escapade. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs at it and I make a noise I’ve never heard myself make before. His lips move against mine hungrily, different from all the other times we’ve spent making out. He peppers kisses everywhere his lips can find skin. My lips, my jaw, my neck, the two moles underneath my left ear.

His hand falls from my hair and snakes under my shirt. I jump at the sensation of his cold touch, gasping into his mouth as I fist a handful of his shirt. I clumsily pull out the hair tie holding his hair together and take a fistful of it in my hands, tugging at it. A guttural groan comes from Baz. I freeze at the sound, feeling my entire body heat up from it. 

“I didn’t know you liked it rough like that,” I whisper against his lips, a smirk on my face. 

“Shut up and just kiss me,” he responds breathlessly. Our lips connect for a second before he pulls away, wincing as he looks down. He opens his other hand gingerly, showing the cross now charred into the middle of his palm. He glances up at me before trying to take it out, but curses as it burns him. I grab his hand and gently remove the cross before throwing it onto the coffee table. I run my thumb across the tender skin and he flinches from the pain.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, placing a kiss on his knuckles.

“I should be saying that. For saying what I said last week, for being a horrible, terrible boyfriend,” he says. He gazes at me, eyes glassy and filled with regret. “I’m sorry.”

“I just wish you would have told me what was going on instead of saying those things, you know?” I bring my hand to his cheek, his pale skin stark and cool. “So... what _is_ going on?”

“I...I’ve been studying hard and focusing on my classes. Maybe a little too much. I-I think I was so stressed and I took it all out on you.”

“Baz, it’s okay–“

“It’s not okay, Simon,” he interrupts. He lets out a shaky sigh before continuing. “What I said to you wasn’t okay. It was heartless and cold, and I’m not that. I know I act that way, but I never want to say something like that to you again. You ignored me for a whole week! I practically felt like I was dying, again.”

“I think you’re exaggerating just a little,” I say, a grin breaking out in my face. He studies me, a small smile of his own spreading on his lips. I tuck a strand of his black hair behind his ear. 

“I want you to tell me more things like this, Baz. You’re overworked and that’s not okay,” I explain. His mouth opens to argue but I ignore him. “Listen, I know classes are important to you, but your health is more important. I’ve watched you neglect your health for too long.”

How many times have I seen him look pale and sickly because he hasn’t fed for months on end? His skin would have a greyish tint and the dark circles under his eyes would morph into deep bruises. Now that he’s feeding more often, he uses studying and pulling all-nighters as an excuse to not take care of himself. It scares me, to say the least, and it breaks my heart even more. The times where he has slid into bed at 4 a.m. were too many to count. Occasionally, I would find him asleep at his desk, head lying on top of a heavy textbook. 

“Okay.” His voice is quiet as he answers apprehensively. He bites his lip, unsure of what to say next. 

“Okay,” I reply, placing a delicate kiss against his lips. He smiles for a second before continuing where we had left off. One kiss becomes two, three, four, five. It’s hard to know how much time passes as we stay wrapped up in each other.

“Sorry for wearing the cross,” I say after we break apart for a moment. The corner of his mouth quirks up as he runs his thumb against my bottom lip. 

“You’re kind of cute, so I’ll forgive you this time, Snow,” he retorts inadvertently as his thumb now traces my freckled cheek. 

“Cute? Did you just call me cute?” I laugh at his bewildered expression. 

“W-What? No. You must have misheard me,” he blusters, looking away. 

“No, I think I heard correctly. You think I’m cute, don’t you, Baz?” I chuckle as he glowers down at me. I bring both my hands up to his face, his expression noticeably softening. “For real, though. I’m sorry for doing that, and now you have a scar on your hand.”

“Are you worried about me, Simon?” he teases. “Don’t worry, I won’t break. It’s just a burn. It hurts like a bitch, but I’ll survive.”

“I promise I won’t hurt you unless you ask me to.” His eyes bug out of his head as my words register to him. 

“You’re getting quite brave, Snow. I think you should watch yourself,” he mutters, nipping at my ear. His deep voice rattles me, causing a shiver to trickle down my spine. 

“Should I?” I feel wet, open-mouthed kisses trail down my neck. 

“Mmhmm.”

I giggle at his unfocus before tugging at the collar of his shirt, bringing my lips back to his. We stay like that on the couch for awhile. I mean, we certainly have to make up for all the lost time.


End file.
